Hope (House of wax x reader)

ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

Dalton walked up the steps to the House of Wax, and noticed that the door was open.  He also noticed that there was a closed sign hanging on the open doors.

"Hello?  Anyone in here," he called.

Hearing something coming from inside, Dalton quickly entered the building, and began to look around.  He saw the different wax figures, and wondered why there weren't any famous people.  But that wasn't the reason he was in here.

"Carly?!  Wade?!  (y/n)?!  Hello!  Anyone here?!"

He looked at the different art pieces, and saw the strange small statues.

"This is a weird place.  Anyone home!  Carly.  Carly?!"

A few feet further in, and Dalton saw a beautiful black grand piano.  It was sleek and looked like it was brand new.  But the important thing was that Wade was sitting on the matching stool.  His hands were outstretched over the keys, as if he were about to play.  Carly was leaning over the body of the instrument, a bright smile on her face, but her eyes felt cold and dead for some reason.

"Wade!  What the hell are you doing bro?  Come on guys, everyone's waiting for you at the campsite!"

When given no response, Dalton walked closer, and realized that the two weren't breathing, nor blinking.  And Carly's eyes looked like glass.  Dalton made his way over to Wade, and tried poking him in the cheek, and was surprised by the warm substance he had touched.  It was warm wax, and he left an indent where his finger had been.

But the strangest thing was the fact that Wade's eyes snapped over to Dalton.

"Holy shit man!  Hold tight, man!  Hold tight, I'm gonna get you out of this," Dalton exclaimed.

Dalton began to swipe off the wax from Wade's face.  Too bad, because the molten was was hot enough to melt the skin, merging the two.  So as Dalton removed the wax, Wade's flesh was torn away.  Veins and muscles began to pull away as well, and teeth were beginning to show.

"Oh, alright man!  I'm sorry, man, I'm sorry.  Oh my god... what happened to you man?!"

Dalton continued, till the right half of Wade's face was on the floor in a muddled heap.

"Hold on, hold on!  No!"

Dalton was too busy with Wade and his wax covered body, that he didn't hear the footsteps approaching from behind him.  But he saw the reflection in the shiny piano of a man with long hair, and a mask that looked like a face, hiding one of the man's eyes.  Dalton jumped up and sprinted away, through the door into the dining room.  He ran into the kitchen, and saw the only things not made of wax.

There were two highchairs, placed next to a table.  On the back of one, the name 'Vincent' was scrawled out in golden paint.  On the one next to it was the name 'Bo.'  Dalton heard the quick footsteps behind him, and quickly ran forward to a shelf on the wall, holding some plates.  Dalton began to grab plates from the shelf and throw them at the large man.

But the objects shattered when they made impact, and they didn't phase the man.  From seemingly out of nowhere, the man grabbed a pair of garden shears.  Dalton grabbed one more plate, and threw it at the man's face.  The man stepped back and his hand flew up to his face, the mask slipping.  Dalton took this opportunity, and lunged for the last door in the circuit.  This was the only closed door in this house so far, and he was not ready for what was on the other side.

There were faces in the wall, forever in a permanent scream, or cry for anguish.  Dalton felt someone push his back forcefully, and Dalton went tumbling down a flight of stairs he hadn't realized was there.  The screaming wall decorations went all the way down as well.

Before Dalton could stand up or try to get away again, the man opened the shears, and forced them around Dalton's neck.  Then, he closed them, decapitating the potential stoner.    He then grabbed the head and held it under his arm like a football, and grabbed the body by the feet.  He began dragging Dalton's corpse through the tunnels towards his work station.

He figured he would just use some molten wax to fuse the head to the body before putting it in the chair.  Hell, he could even utilize it for the final design.  But he knew one thing for certain.

Stitching the head would look wrong, even once the position was fixed in the chair.  So bothering with that would just waste the thread.